Masters of Mischief
by gardenofwords
Summary: Between auctioning off the Sorting Hat, turning heads pink, and finding out if Angelina weighs the same as a duck, the Weasley twins plan to have a memorable year at Hogwarts, filled with lots of fun and very little work. Set during OTP.
1. Forewarning

**A/N: Sorry, this is really short, but I'd really appreciate feedback to see if this idea is worth pursuing. I wanted to write something with Fred and George during OTP, following their lives, the trouble they get into, relationships, maybe a more serious side, etc. I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with it yet, but...please comment!**

Forewarning

"Alicia."

"Angie."

Fred and George Weasley greeted their teammates as they sank down next to them on the Hogwarts Express, George by Alicia Spinnet, Fred by Angelina Johnson.

"_Don't_ call me Angie."

"Sorry, Angie."

"Won't happen again."

"Never."

Angelina just rolled her eyes at the twins.

"So I hear you're Quidditch Captain this year," Fred said to Angelina, grinning.

"You heard right." A little smile betrayed the annoyed expression on her face.

"Excellent."

"Yeah, that's great. As your beaters, we'll do everything in our power…"

"…to keep you on your broom…"

"…if you do everything in your power…"

"…to give us a little leeway this year."

Angelina raised her eyebrows. "And why exactly would you need 'a little leeway'?"

"Well," George answered her, "let's just say we may end up missing _a few_ practices due to _a few_ extra detentions…"

"…that will no doubt be given us because a few of the teachers don't seem to fully appreciate our creative genius…"

"…and seem to consider it troublemaking."

"Shame, really. The things they could learn from us if only they would broaden their minds a bit..." Fred raised his eyes to the ceiling, as if lost in a daydream.

Alicia tried to hide a grin, but Angelina caught it and sent a withering glare her way that would have devastated a weaker person.

"Anyway, we just came by…"

"…to give you a heads-up…"

"…and offer you…"

"congratulations." They ended in unison.

They had been backing out of the compartment as they spoke, and now George winked at Alicia before ducking out of the compartment, and the two took off, sprinting down the corridor.

Angelina had jumped up out of her seat and run to the door. Sticking her head around the corner, she yelled after the twins.

"I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU CALL IT, IF YOUR _CREATIVE GENIUS_ LANDS YOU IN DETENTION, THEN I HOPE YOU HAVE BETTER THINGS TO DO THAN QUIDDITCH BECAUSE I _WILL_ KICK YOU OFF THE TEAM!"

When she ducked back inside the compartment, Alicia was smirking at her.

"What?"

"You're such a liar. You couldn't kick Fred off the team even if you wanted to, and you know it."

"Watch me. If they think they're going to miss my practices…" She ranted the rest of the way to school, but Alicia, who was used to this, just tuned it out.

---------

"So what do you think?"

"Angelina? Oh, she's in love with me. No doubt about it. I knew it from the moment she threw a rotten toadstool at my head in Potions."

"Nah, I meant these." George held out two boxes. "Puking Pastilles or Nosebleed Nougat to get out of first class?"

"Hmm. An excellent question. Puking Pastilles for day one. Nosebleed Nougat for day…I dunno, three or four. I think we should have a schedule, you know, which Snackbox to use which day, that way we mix them up enough so it doesn't look suspicious."

"Except that would involve work, which is _exactly_ what we're trying to avoid this year."

"It'll be a good year, too." Fred grinned at his twin. "We're gonna make things happen this year, George. The professors won't know what's hit them."


	2. The Sorting Hat

The Sorting Hat

The doors to the Great Hall burst open, and the Hogwarts students flooded into it, Fred and George leading the pack, their arms around each other, singing loudly.

"Oi! Shut up, you two—how much butterbeer did you have, anyway?" called a seventh year from the back, but no one listened to him.

The twins' mood was contagious, and the muttered conversation soon turned to singing as many other students joined in while making their way to the House tables.

Fred and George sat across from each other at the Gryffindor table, and they were soon joined by Lee, Angelina, Alicia, Seamus, Dean, Ron, Hermione, and Harry.

"Hello, Harry," George greeted Harry, clapping him on the back as he sat down.

"Looks like you made it—" George looked down at his watch, "juuuuust in time for the Sorting Ceremony."

Fred grinned. "Good thing, too. You won't want to miss it this year."

"Er…yeah, we were later than usual, they should be starting now, shouldn't they?" Harry asked.

"Why won't we want to miss the Sorting Ceremony this year? What's different?" Hermione wanted to know.

The twins' grins grew broader.

"Oh, you'll find out right about…"

"Now."

The doors to the Hall had just burst open again, and Professor McGonagall ran through them, looking terrified.

"Oh, dear, oh, dear…" they could hear her mutter as she ran past to the staff table. Many students were looking alarmed now, but the twins' grins never wavered.

"Wait a minute…" Hermione said, scrutinizing the twins suspiciously. "What did you do?"

"Who, us?"

"Do something?"

"Never," they finished together.

Professor McGonagall was talking in hushed tones to Professor Dumbledore, who listened closely, then motioned for a few of the teachers to follow Professor McGonagall out of the Hall.

When they had left, Dumbledore addressed the students.

"It seems our beloved Sorting Hat has gone missing." Muttering broke out among the students. Hermione fixed the twins with a smoldering glare. They ignored her.

Dumbledore held up his hand for silence and continued, "Now, although the Sorting Hat has the magnificent ability to speak, it is, as far as I know, incapable of walking. Therefore, it is to be assumed that it was removed by someone who can. I am sure—" Dumbledore looked at the students over the top of his spectacles, his gaze traveling across the entire Hall, "that the person or persons involved in this prank feel the greatest remorse, and as I know only too well how difficult it can be to confess to figures of authority, I and all my fellow staff members will leave the room now to help look for the hat with the teachers who are already doing so. If, as I suspect may be true, the hat is still in this room, the student or students responsible may place the hat in its rightful place here on the stool, and the other professors and I will return in a few moments in the hope that conscience will have gotten the better of the pranksters, and that the Sorting Ceremony can commence, as I am sure that our first years would like to get it over with."

Here Dumbledore surveyed the students again, and it was no one's imagination that his gaze lingered a little longer on Fred and George than on anyone else.

He and the other teachers left the hall, striding down the center in single file, the students watching them go. When the doors had shut behind them, George grinned at Fred, who reached into a pocket of his robes and pulled out the Sorting hat under the table. Then the two got up and ran, one on either side of the Gryffindor table, up to the front of the Hall.

They jumped onto the platform, where Fred waved the hat in the air, and turned, grinning, to the crowd.

"Okay, Sorting hat…we'll start the bidding at twenty sickles, come on, who'll give me twenty sickles…"

"This is a priceless object, people, you won't find one of these anywhere else…"

Grins began to break out among the crowd, along with a few disapproving frowns, mainly from Hermione, who rolled her eyes, shaking her head in exasperation.

Lee Jordan took off his hat and held it in the air like an auction paddle.

"Twenty!" He grinned broadly at his two best friends.

"Twenty sickles! Thank you, sir. How about six galleons? Let's kick it up to six galleons, I know it's a jump, but come on, it's a talking hat…"

"You, in the front row!" George, pointing to a first-year girl standing near the platform. "Now _that's_ a nice hat, but you could do better…"

"_Six_ galleons, to the gentleman at the back of the Gryffindor table, thank you, sir, I have six galleons, do I hear eight? Eight galleons, come on people, once in a lifetime offer…"

The noise was growing in the Hall, people were laughing, joining in. Black hats shot into the air every few seconds all around the Hall. Even a few of the Slytherins were playing along.

By the time the doors to the Great Hall opened again, the noise was so loud that hardly any one person could be heard among the general din.

Dumbledore strode into the Hall, the other teachers following him, his eyes fixed on the Weasley twins.

"SOLD! To whoever you are," George said, throwing the hat to a Gryffindor seated near the platform, jumping down, and running back to his seat, Fred on his heels.

The hall had gone silent. The teachers filed back behind the staff table, and Dumbledore turned to address the crowd once more.

"It seems," he said calmly, "that the hat has been found. Miss Grayson, if you would be so kind as to return it to the stool."

The blonde girl at the Gryffindor table to whom George had thrown the hat ran up to the platform, placed the hat on the stool, and ran back to her seat quickly, with an expression that clearly said she didn't want to be associated with any of this.

"Thank you," Dumbledore said. "Now, let the ceremony—finally—begin."

Over at the Gryffindor table, Fred and George were snickering quietly and conversing in hushed tones. George had pulled a list out of his pocket, and the two were consulting it under Hermione's angry glare.

"Okay, let's see, auction off the Sorting Hat…done. What's next? Oh, wait, hold on. Here it comes, watch."

Professor McGonagall, looking like she was recovering from shock, began to read from the list of first years.

"Anders, Christopher," was up first. Christopher broke away from the other first years and walked up to the stool, wide-eyed, clearly wondering what on earth he was getting himself into.

Christopher sat down very carefully on the stool, as if afraid either that he would break it or that it would bite him, and Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head.

But as soon as the hat hit his head, instead of bursting out a House name, fireworks burst out of the top of it, and it shot into the air.

Christopher screamed, all the other first years screamed, most of the other students screamed, and McGonagall gasped and looked like she'd lost all the composure she'd tried to obtain since finding the hat missing. Fred and George, however, burst into laughter, jumped up, and high-fived each other across the table.

"WEASLEY!" Professor McGonagall had finally lost it. She marched across the room, grabbed Fred by the collar, and marched out of the Hall, yelling, "GEORGE! COME!"


	3. Let the Chaos Begin

Let the Chaos Begin

Professor McGonagall was livid. She stood behind the desk in her office, facing the twins sitting on the other side, who grinned back at her, completely unashamed.

"Sorry, Professor."

"Couldn't resist."

"Yeah, we needed a bit of money. You know. College tuition."

"College tuition," Professor McGonagall repeated through gritted teeth. "Of course. Seeing as this is Hogwarts, and you begin your lives as adults directly after leaving."

"Well, you never know, the Muggles seem to put a lot of stock in it. We could decide to try it."

Professor McGonagall decided just to ignore this.

"And the fireworks? You terrified that boy! It's hard enough for all of the new students without having to deal with putting on a sparking hat!"

The twins' grins grew wider.

"And stop smiling like that! It's not funny! You two had better learn to shape up this year. The Ministry is more involved in Hogwarts than ever. What with Dolores Umbridge as a professor, they'll be watching us like hawks. _Please_ do not make everyone's lives more difficult than they need to be."

-----------

"Hey. Peeves!" George was whispering, beckoning to the poltergeist. He and Fred had their heads stuck around the corner, making sure no one was watching.

They were on their way back to the common room from McGonagall's office, but thought they'd just take care of something first.

Peeves stopped in midair and turned around to look down at the twins.

"Oh, the Weasel twins want to talk to Peevsie, they do," he cackled. "But Peevsie doesn't listen to weasels. Oh no, he doesn't." He turned around and began to float on.

"Hey, you overgrown cloud, we've got a job for you." George held a water balloon in the air. "Now, do you want it or not?"

"'Cause we'd be happy to take all the credit ourselves."

Peeves paused, looked for a minute like he was contemplating, then swooped down to where the twins were hidden.

"I'm listening."

"We want you to take these and drop them over the heads of any passing teacher."

"Or Ron."

"Pretty simple—"

"Or any of Ginny's old boyfriends. Especially that one guy. What's his face. I heard he was a jerk to her—"

"Just float up to the ceiling, and wait until someone walks by—"

"Or any of the Slytherin Quidditch team—"

"—and drop it. Think you can handle that?"

"—or any Slytherin, really…"

"We'll have more coming."

Peeves grinned in delight, took the balloon from George, and swooped up to the ceiling, hiding above the chandelier in the entrance hall.

_"Aguamenti."_ Fred filled another balloon full of water and tied it. He turned to his brother and grinned.

"Let the chaos begin."

-------------

The portrait swung open, and Fred and George climbed through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room with grins on their faces. Most people were back from dinner by now. A few looked a little wet.

Angelina and Alicia were sitting in armchairs over by the fireplace. Fred and George walked over to join them, Fred resting his arms on the back of Angelina's chair and talking over her shoulder.

"Hey, Angie."

"Fred, we've been through this before…_don't—"_

"Okay, okay, don't get your wand in a knot, Angel. Hey, I like that better, anyway…"

A shriek of laughter caught their attention. Fred, Angelina, and Alicia whipped their heads around to see a group of girls in fits of laughter over by a far wall, pointing to a boy a few feet away with bright pink hair, much like Tonks usually wore hers.

"Nice hair, Jeremy!"

"Really suits you!"

Jeremy stood stock-still at the sudden attention, staring at the group of girls with a completely bewildered expression on his face. One of the girls finally took pity on him, and handed him a mirror. He dropped the books he'd been holding when he saw himself.

"Wha—what happened?!"

George stood nearby, wearing a look of mock innocence, and stowing his wand back inside his robes.

Fred raised his eyebrows. "Nice one," he muttered under his breath. He turned back to Angelina.

"Why the bad mood, Angel? You look like your cat just died."

"I don't have a cat."

"Good thing, too. Psychotic things. Good for catching gnomes, though."

"Um…okay."

Fred continued to look at her expectantly. She sighed in annoyance.

"Peeves was…well, being Peeves, and dropping water balloons on anyone who walked under that chandelier in the entrance hall." She gestured to her hair, which was soaking wet. "Honestly, one of these days I'm going to strangle that poltergeist."

"How _could_ he do such a thing? Tragic."

Fred came around Angelina's chair and sat on the floor in front of her, staring up at her with a boyish grin.

"So! Hogsmeade weekend in two weeks. How about—"

"Fred, I've told you before, the Yule Ball was a one-time thing, okay? We're not dating, nor are we ever going to date."

Fred said nothing, but stared at Angelina with sad-looking, puppy dog eyes until she began to grin a little. He tore his eyes away from hers as George came over to join them, noticing a few more pink heads over the top of Angelina's chair.

"Hey, what's with the look?" George asked.

"Aw, come on, Angelina. First day into the year, don't tell me you've already gone and broken his heart."

"She has, she has."

"Come on, he's got such a big heart, so easily broken. Easily ten times the size of his brain. With that combination, you really should go easy on him."

Angelina couldn't help it. She was smiling now. Next to her, Alicia started to laugh.

"Alicia, you wouldn't do that to a guy, would you?" George asked. "Now come on, girls, we can't start the year off this way. What say we call it a truce and you two come with us to Hogsmeade in two weeks?"

"Not happening."

"Angelina, we're businessmen. We don't take no for an answer."

"I don't think my boyfriend would be thrilled with the Hogsmeade idea. Sorry, guys," Alicia spoke up.

George was distracted now. "Boyfriend?"

Angelina looked at Fred. "I've got to make plans for Quidditch tryouts."

"What boyfriend?"

"And then for Quidditch practices."

"What's his name?"

"So I'm probably not going anyway."

"What _boyfriend?_"

"Angelina, Angelina…" George held out a hand, palm up. "Quidditch plans—" he held out the other hand the same way, "or Fred Weasley? I really don't think there's even a choice in there. I mean, if you were actually _playing_ Quidditch, it might be understandable. But even then, as amazing as the game is, you can't deny it lacks my rugged good looks and undeniable charm." Fred got onto his knees and inched his way over until he was right in front of Angelina's chair. He clasped his hands together and plastered the puppy dog look back on his face. "You really don't want to see me beg. It's quite pathetic, and I'm oh-so-close."

"I said no."

"So say yes."

"I say drop it."

"Careful, Angelina. He's not good with rejection. That big heart of his? Like I've told you, so, so easily broken."

"I've _got_ plans."

George got up and came around the back of Alicia's chair. "That's it. She's done it. She's broken his heart. _She's broken his heart in two…There was a guy I knew. A better man than me or you. Until a girl, she broke his heart. She broke his heart in two. And now that man is nothing more, than a puddle on the floor. Because the girl, she broke his heart, she broke his heart in two!"_

George grinned at Alicia, who smiled back; then he took off, skipping around the common room and singing at the top of his lungs.

_"There was a guy I knew…" _As he skipped, he pulled out his wand and began turning the hair on every boy's head pink while he sang.

Other people joined in Fred's song, and a few actually started clapping along. Angelina sank further down in her seat, looking thoroughly annoyed, while Alicia's smile grew.

In between turning heads pink, George pulled a few fireworks out of his pocket and threw them into the air, where they ignited on their own, some turning into birds that soared around the room, others shooting across the room, and still others making a loud banging noise and then going out.

Fred grinned and slid onto the arm of Angelina's chair.

"See now, Angel, don't you feel—"

"FRED, SHUT UP!"

Apparently George's song combined with the irritant of fireworks going off around the common room had pushed her over the edge. Before anyone knew what she was doing, Angelina had taken out her wand and pointed it at Fred. Next moment he was Fred the Newt.

A few people nearby screamed. Angelina let him wriggle for a minute, then turned him back.

Fred the Human sat on the floor, looking dazed. George had finished his last lap around the room and skipped up to Fred.

"_…she broke his heart in two! _What was that?"

Fred looked up at George, still recovering. After a moment, he grinned and said, "She turned me into a newt."

George grinned back. "You don't look like a newt."

"I got better."

A few of the people scattered around the common room who had grown up with Muggle parents or seen the movie with a Muggle-born friend, grinned at the Monty Python reference. The twins had borrowed it from a friend the summer before, and loved every second of it, claiming to anyone who would listen that they were really adopted, and Monty Python was their long-lost father.

The twins looked at each other for a moment, then turned their heads slowly toward Angelina. They stared at her wide-eyed for a few moments; then, at the exact same time, they pointed at her and cried, "A WITCH!"

A few who had clearly never had the privilege of seeing _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_ just gave the twins strange looks, and one sixth-year girl said, "Of course she's a witch, morons, what else would she be?"

The twins shook their heads. "Such ignorance, such deprivation," George lamented. "It's sad, really."

The noise in the common room was growing out of control. Alicia turned around in her chair and looked around the common room in alarm.

"Self-multiplying fireworks."

"Aren't they beautiful?"

"I think we need more."

"I think you're right."

George helped Fred up off the floor, and they went off to the boys' dormitory to get more fireworks, walking behind Angelina's chair as they did so.

"A WITCH!" they yelled in her ear, laughing when she jumped, then continued up to the dormitory.

"I wonder if she weighs the same as a duck."

"I think we should find out."

"I think we should."

"All in the name of research."

"Of course."

They came back down the stairs a few minutes later to find, to their satisfaction, that the common room was now in total chaos. Smoke filled the air, students were running around, every boy with a pink head of hair, yelling and ducking out of the way of the rapidly multiplying fireworks, some of which were chasing them.

Then Professor McGonagall came clambering into the portrait hole, soaking wet. She gasped at what she saw.

"Oh! My goodness…"

The twins laughed and set off the fireworks they had just brought downstairs. The prefects were trying to calm some of the first years who had not reacted so well to the fireworks, many people were trying to stop the attacking ones, Hermione was actually managing it, some were fleeing up the stairs to the dormitory, Professor McGonagall was trying to do everything at once, Angelina was running to the aid of a friend who was being attacked by a runaway firework…

"A WITCH!" the twins cried, every time she ran by, which was quite often, as her friend and the attacking firework were zigzagging all over the room at top speed, but really, in all the chaos, no one could hear them, anyway.

After about an hour, the fireworks began to die down and much of the smoke had cleared, but everyone had been so riled up by all the chaos that it was almost as loud as ever in the common room.

Finally, as two more students climbed through the portrait hole, soaking wet, Professor McGonagall decided that she had had enough.

"Everyone, GET TO BED!" she yelled, heading for the portrait hole and a cackling Peeves who could just be seen through it, still attacking students and teachers with water balloons. "Now! Mr. Finnigan, just leave your hair alone, you'll end up lighting it on fire. Madam Pomfrey can sort it out tomorrow. Mr. Weasley, _where_ are you going with that duck? Oh, for heaven's sake—PEEVES!"


	4. The Good Students

The Good Students

Fred lay awake in bed, staring up towards the ceiling, his arms folded behind his head. He was unusually quiet. Next to him, George was leaning against one of the bedposts on the end of his own bed, throwing a screaming bouncy ball against the wall, where it bounced back across the bed and into his hand, although by now the screaming was fading, so it was more of a feeble cry. The other boys in the dormitory were all asleep.

"Do you really think she meant what she said tonight, about the Yule-Ball being a one-time thing, and that I never have a chance of dating her?"

"Who, Angelina?"

"No, McGonagall. Of course, dimwit."

George grinned. "Yeah, she meant it."

Fred gave him an I-can't-believe-you-just-said-that look.

"What? She did. That doesn't mean you can't change her mind, though."

"How? A love potion? Because that's about the only thing I can think of that would make her look at me like I'm not a deranged lunatic."

"Hey, at least she sees the truth." Fred's pillow flew across the space between their beds and smacked him hard in the face.

"Alright! Joking! But, hey, now you mention a love potion, I've got an idea—oh, this is gonna be brilliant…"

-----------

Hermione slammed her book bag down on the table and sank onto the bench next to George the next morning at breakfast, a bright smile on her face, the type of smile often worn by those rare, strange beings sometimes referred to as morning people.

"Morning!" she said brightly.

"What are you so happy about?" Ron asked. He was sitting on her other side, looking grumpy.

"O.W.L.s this year. That means every class is going to be that much more intense, and it also means that _you two_ are actually going to have to pay attention," she said, glaring at Ron and Harry.

"And it also means death," George chimed in happily.

"Yeah, you'll be lucky if you make it onto the train at the end of the year," Fred added.

"They actually hold a funeral at the end of fifth year."

"In this little graveyard a few miles away from here, so all the students don't get worked up."

"Bury all the ones who couldn't make it."

"You remember that one kid, Jason? Poor guy, barely made it three weeks in…"

"Which one? I think they buried at least two…"

"McGregor, I think it was."

"Oh, yeah. Nah, he was a git; it was that other one, Smith, I felt sorry for…"

They stared at the ceiling reminiscently. Ron and Harry stared at them in horror.

"Oh, shut up, you two." Hermione glared at the twins, then turned to her best friends. "Don't listen to them. It's _not_ going to be that bad. You just might have to start taking notes for once, that's all."

The looks of horror on their faces only intensified at that.

As soon as they got their schedules, Hermione tried to bolt out of there to be the first one waiting by the door of her first class.

She was already up from the table and headed out the door when George called, "Oi! Hermione! You might want to drink something before your first class."

"Yeah, you know. Good for your brain. You don't want to get lightheaded in O.W.L. classes. You miss too much."

Hermione hesitated for a moment. "I suppose you're right." She ran back to the table, snatched up the glass by her plate, and downed it in one gulp.

"Thanks, guys," she said, and practically sprinted out the door.

"Hermione, wait up!" Ron yelled to her retreating back, and he and Harry took off after her.

Once they were gone, the twins grinned at each other across the table. Fred shook his head. "You know, for such a smart girl…"

"Completely oblivious." George beamed at his brother.

-------------

"Candy! Get your candy!" Fred and George stood on either side of the door to Transfiguration, holding boxes full of assorted Skiving Snackbox candies. They'd lumped all different kinds into these two boxes, but the antidotes were conveniently missing.

They shoved handfuls at each student who walked past them into class. Some looked delighted at what they thought was a treat, others looked extremely apprehensive, given the twins' track record, and still others looked like they were barely paying attention at all as they took the candies and made their way into class.

"Good morning," professor McGonagall said in her usual brisk manner as she walked into class and made her way to the front, after all the students had arrived and sat down.

Wasting no time, Professor McGonagall picked up a long pointer sitting on her desk and pointed to an intricate diagram on the blackboard.

"Today's lesson details the transfiguration of an invertebrate into a vertebrate. Given the complexity of the latter, this is an extremely difficult transfiguration, and the process should be followed exactly. I have drawn here a diagram…"

Fred leaned toward George.

"Ready?" he whispered.

"Oh, yeah," George whispered back. "One…"

"Two…"

"Three," they whispered together, and just as they did so, a Ravenclaw boy's hand shot into the air. His other hand was covering his nose, and blood was just beginning to seep out from under it.

"Now, you _must_ always remember to…Yes, Nicholas?"

"Um, Professor, my nose…can I go to the hospital wing?"

Professor McGonagall noticed the blood then.

"Oh! Yes, of course." Nicholas got up from his desk and left the room.

"Okay. I would like the rest of you to please take out your books, and…"

"_Aaaaaahh!"_

"Miss Chambers, what _is_ the meaning of—oh!" Professor McGonagall gasped. Boils were popping up all over Stephanie Chambers' face and arms.

"Professor, I need to—"

"Yes, yes, of course, go to the hospital wing." Professor McGonagall's voice had a slightly annoyed edge to it.

Stephanie left. Two minutes later, a boy at the back had vomited all over the floor. After he was sent to the hospital wing, two more students had nosebleeds, three more vomited, two others broke out in boils, and it continued, until the entire class was gone, except for Fred and George.

The twins sat perfectly still in their seats like the angels they weren't, and looked up at Professor McGonagall with innocent faces.

"So," Fred said, innocent look still in place, "how does that transfiguration thing work again?"

"Seeing as we're the only ones who seem to feel it important enough to actually stay in class."

They beamed up at Professor McGonagall, who looked incredibly flustered and couldn't find the words to answer them.


	5. A Slightly Different Hermione

A Slightly Different Hermione

"All I'm saying is, if you just gave it a _few_ days—three, four at the most—I really think you'd come to appreciate the idea. And, in turn, appreciate us. It really is the new thing, you know. Especially for a redhead."

"George, shut up. You're not turning my hair pink."

"Oh, little brother, it's not a question of whether or not I'll do it—"

"—It's whether or not you'll be aware of it when he does."

"Exactly."

Just as Ron opened his mouth to tell George something I really couldn't put on paper, anyway, a loud _slam_ stopped him short. Ron, Fred, and George all looked across the table at Hermione, who had just dropped her books on the table and now was sinking down onto her seat right across from George, a dazed look in her eyes and a slightly moronic smile on her face.

"What's wrong with you?" Ron asked her, his expression a strange mix of confusion and slight disgust. But Hermione, for some reason, only seemed to have eyes for George.

"Hi, George," she greeted him in an uncharacteristic breathless voice, as she continued to stare at him, the same grin on her face, her head cocked to the side, her eyes never wavering from his face.

"Hello, Hermione," George responded, in an equally uncharacteristic charismatic and serious voice. "How were your classes today?" His smile grew wider, and he kept his eyes glued to hers as he leaned forward with his arms folded on the table, beaming at her.

"Oh, they were excellent, of course. But honestly I couldn't wait for them to be over today—I couldn't wait to see you."

No one paid any attention to the dumbstruck look on Ron's face or the fact that his jaw was practically hitting the tabletop. Hermione probably wouldn't have noticed if the ceiling had fallen in, so long as it hadn't fallen on George's head. She certainly didn't notice Fred, on George's other side, laughing quietly into his goblet of pumpkin juice. And George was still staring, apparently completely unsurprised, at Hermione.

Once Fred had recovered himself enough to be able to form words, he leaned forward, gesturing back and forth between George and Hermione and said, "Hey, Hogsmeade tomorrow. Why don't you two go together?" George was momentarily caught off guard, and he let his eyes flash towards his brother before composing his face again into a look showing nothing but calm and ease.

"Y-yeah, what do you think, Hermione? How about coming with me to Hogsmeade tomorrow?" Hermione, for once at a loss for a response, simply nodded her head enthusiastically, her grin wider than ever. Ron stared at her as if she were a lunatic, his head cocked to the side, eyebrows knit together, his mouth still open. By this point, both of the twins were trying very hard to hide their grins, with little success, and to keep from bursting out laughing. Ron didn't seem to notice this.

"Oi, you!" It took George a minute to mentally fit together the angry voice and the hand seizing the back of his robes, but before it quite made sense to him, the angry hand had whirled him around, and he found himself facing the equally angry face of his little brother.

Ron's face was the color of a strawberry, his eyebrows knit together again, this time in anger rather than confusion. The hand that was not clutching Fred's robes was balled into a tight fist, twitching sporadically, as though it would strike Fred of its own accord at any moment.

George raised his eyebrows. "Yes, little brother, can I help you?" he said in a bored voice. "We're blocking traffic." And indeed they were. Because they were standing in front of the double doors leading from the Great Hall, students had to squeeze past them, often breaking ranks in their tight little groups, giving the two angry looks as they passed. Ron didn't even notice them.

"What was that all about, then?"

"What?"

"Come on, cut the innocent act, you're not fooling anybody. Hermione?"

George seemed to contemplate for a moment.

"Hermione…"

"Hermione and you!"

"are…both Gryffindors?" Ron just glared.

"are…both ridiculously intelligent?"

Ron's face turned a deeper shade of red. "Try again."

"are…both superior in all ways to you?"

"HOW ABOUT ARE BOTH GOING TO HOGSMEADE TOGETHER?! Since _when_ does she mean anything to you? How could you do this to—"

He stopped short. "—to her? I mean, you know Hermione, she's probably got tons of homework she'd rather be doing this weekend anyway, and you're keeping her from doing it because she feels like she has to be nice and go with you to Hogsmeade!"

George was quiet for a moment, staring at his brother. Then he nodded, looking thoughtful. "Nice cover."

"What do you mean 'nice cover'? I'm not covering anything—"

"Don't get your wand in a knot, Ron, I'm not stealing precious Hermione from you." And without further explanation, and without giving Ron time to digest this statement and retort with a sufficiently angry and most likely obscene response, George turned and left the Great Hall.

Three heads turned simultaneously to watch Hermione stumble her way across the Common Room, waving at George with a dazed grin on her face and tripping now and then, all the way out the portrait hole.

George, Fred, and Angelina were all sitting in armchairs by the fire, and the latter two turned to looked at George, Fred with amusement, Angelina in bewilderment.

"What was that all about?" Angelina wanted to know.

George looked offended. "Every girl looks at me like that, Angelina. It's not my fault if you haven't noticed before."

"But it's only because they think he's me," Fred chimed in, flashing Angelina what he thought had to be a charming smile. The look of confusion mingled with slight disgust did not leave Angelina's face.

Finally, she shook her head. "Never mind, I don't want to know. You probably poisoned her."

The morning of the first Hogsmeade trip dawned cool and sunny, and excitement drifted on the air during breakfast, everyone talking a little louder than usual, a few students shouting greetings and teasing their friends across the Great Hall, to the annoyance of Professor McGonagall (_Sit down_, Jordan! If I have to tell you again to keep your voice down, it's detention till Christmas!).

George met Hermione in the entrance hall. She'd dressed up a bit for the occasion, her bushy hair piled on top of her head and held in place with bobby pins, tendrils hanging down around her face, which she had uncharacteristically made up with eyeliner, mascara, and a little bit of blush. She really looked pretty. She grinned at George when she saw him. He was caught off guard for a moment by her appearance, but he recovered himself, plastered his most charismatic smile across his face, and offered her his arm, which she took as though being escorted by a celebrity, glee evident on her face.

Leaving the school, neither of them saw Ron standing with Harry, his face again resembling an angry strawberry, nor did they notice Angelina and Alicia standing huddled together, Angelina rolling her eyes and pointing out George and Hermione to Alicia, Alicia with a slightly different look on her face. But she quickly masked the look of hurt in her eyes and headed out the door with Angelina.


	6. Fred Shakespeare

Fred Shakespeare

"Wait, wait, wait. _Let_ me get this straight." Fred held out his hands as if mediating. "_You're _going to miss what could, quite possibly, be the BEST Weasley and Jordan show ever put on tonight because you have to do—_that_?"

Ginny, who was sitting nearby on a couch, raised her eyebrows, listening.

"That—that _thing_, with the parchment, and the quill, and the ink, and the thinking—"

"Homework?"

"Ginny, _how_ many times must I ask you to _please_ not utter that abominable word in front of me? It gives me the chills," Fred finished in a disgusted voice, collapsing into an empty armchair next to George's.

"Fred—"

"_You_," Fred stopped him, turning his head to look at his brother, his mouth in a stern line of mock-seriousness, eyebrows raised over eyes that couldn't quite conceal the humor in them, "are dead to me."

"Alicia told me—"

"Ah, Alicia, Alicia!" Fred erupted in a dramatic voice, getting up from his chair and sweeping theatrically around the room, adopting a Shakespearean voice and speaking loudly, so that the eyes of every student in the Common Room were on him.

"And the lover triumphs, as always! Leaving the scorned brother to fend for himself in a harsh world that feeds on loners, searching out solitary victims from whom it can steal the very happiness that gives a light to your soul!"

His voice had risen so much that he was almost yelling. Uncertain grins were appearing on many students' faces now, and those who knew the twins best were fighting the hardest not to laugh, hoping to hear more.

"In the end, of course, retribution will be mine…" Fred continued, still in his theatrical voice. He'd completed his sweeping around the room and was back at his chair by now. A bunch of first years held their breath expectantly, listening intently.

"And why's that?" George asked.

You could almost hear the first years suck in their breath collectively.

Fred shrugged, collapsing once again into the armchair by the fire.

"It's a tragedy. Everyone dies."

"That," said Ginny, "was sorely disappointing."

"Well, what were you expecting, Shakespeare? It's Fred."

"I'll have you know, dear brother, that I have won over the hearts of many a lady with my poetry."

"Fred, much as I love you, mate, making me wear a wig and one of Ginny's sweaters while you recite a few really, _really_ bad rhymes to practice a misguided attempt to impress Angelina doesn't quite count."

"They were not bad rhymes. They were the _epitome_ of excellent poetry."

"And I quote: Roses are red/ violets are blue/ I'd do anything/ to be with you./ I'd take a shower/ I'd brush my hair/ I'd even stop putting/ bugs in your chair./ I'd give you my chewing gum/ whenever I'm through/ I'd spit-shine my shoes/ to look good for you./ I'd clean out your cauldron/ all the frog guts and slime/ I'd even stop hexing you/ (well, most of the time.)"

Ginny snorted. "Charming."

"I was seven."

"You were fifteen."

"Well, you remembered it, didn't you? And that was the general idea. Technically."

"_I_ thought it was really sweet. And I've _never_ heard anybody recite poetry so _beautifully_, George."

The twins both jumped and turned around. Hermione had come up behind them and was leaning on the back of George's armchair.

"Hi, Hermione," Fred said brightly. "George here was just doing homework."

"Oh, really?? Wow, I looove doing homework. Did you know that? I could help, if you want."

George sighed. This whole love-potion thing had been fun at the time, and their time together in Hogsmeade had certainly entertaining, but now George was ready for the potion to wear off, so he could just focus on spending some time with Alicia.

"That's okay, Hermione. I think I know what I'm doing."

"Since when?" Fred chimed in.

"Since always. I know everything."

"WE know everything."

"Obviously not. Since you didn't know that I knew everything."

Ginny threw a pillow at them. "_Some_ of us are actually trying to concentrate."

"Yeah, Fred, _some _of us are."

"Okay, okay, fine." He lowered his voice so that only George could hear him. "But after I get back tonight, I want to know exactly what happened in Hogsmeade."

George grinned. "No problem. And _I_ want to know how everything plays out tonight."

"Every detail."

"What exactly _is_ happening tonight?" Ginny asked from her spot on the couch. Hermione was now sitting next to her, scribbling away furiously on a piece of parchment in her lap.

"Uhhh…"

"_Fred—_"

"Study session?"

"Right. I'll pretend I believe that."


End file.
